


M is for Mortality

by KateKintail



Series: The ABC Series 2012 [13]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cats, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were lying on the couch when it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	M is for Mortality

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a collection of short H/C ficlets. I asked on one of my LiveJournals for a one word for each letter of the alphabet, as well as a fandom and/or pairing.

They were lying on the couch when it happened. Later, the Doctor would tell her that some of the greatest developments in the history of the universe had come about from someone lying on a couch. But, even afterward, Rose wouldn’t have lumped this into that prestigious category.   
  
They were lying on the couch, watching the evening news, and Rose picked up the remote.   
  
“Hold on a second.” The Doctor reached up and put his hand over hers.   
  
“Tail end of the news. Just a fluff piece left.”  
  
“Mmm. Important fluff piece, this.”   
  
On the screen, a reporter walked through a pet store, cages of cats and dogs on either side. The animals made such a cacophony that she had to speak with her mouth buzzing and popping into the microphone in order to be heard. “Every night these animals act up like this and authorities are clueless…”  
  
“Lanscapins.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Alien race. Enslave planets. You know how it is. But animals can sense them and start acting up, just like that. I’ve seen it a hundred times.” He pushed off from the cushions, jumped to his feet. “If we leave now, we’ll be able to get there by—”  
  
Rose followed hesitantly. “Wait, Doctor, if it’s dangerous—”  
  
“Aliens, Rose. Nasty aliens with big, sharp teeth. And spiked tails. And Mohawks.”  
  
“And what?”  
  
“Mohawks. Well, of scales, not hair, but generally the same visual effect. Point is: aliens!”  
  
“But you’re mortal now. You go looking for trouble and you could die from it.”   
  
“Nahhhh. Or, well, I guess I could, but I haven’t before.”  
  
She found herself stepping between him and the door. “What do you mean? You’ve died nine times. Technically sort of ten.”   
  
He considered for a moment then grabbed her hand. “But none of those deaths were due to Lanscapins.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “C’mon, Rose. You don’t want me to just sit here when an adventure is going on just down the road, do you?”  
  
“Kensington isn’t just down the road, Doctor.”  
  
“Ten tube stops away, to someone who’s traveled through space and time, ten tube stops is down the road.” His eyes flashed with excitement. “You can’t expect me to just lie back down on the couch when there are aliens here. I wouldn’t be me if I did that. Besides, you’re mortal and managed to make it through battling your fair share of aliens.”  
  
Trying to push her worry aside, she focused on his words and those smiling eyes full. There was excitement in them, sure, but also trust and reassurance. “All right. We’ll go check it out.”  
  
“That’s the girl I love!”   
  
Just as she felt she was never going to get used to hearing the Doctor use those words about her, she found herself being whisked away into a much more familiar situation, following his red trainers out of the tube station and down the street to the pet store as seen on the news.  
  
*  
  
Rose tried her best not to smile as a sharp intake of breath accompanied the cotton ball she pressed to the back of his wrist. His arm was covered in scratches. In fact, more than one were large enough to almost look like he’d tried to commit suicide but cut the wrong way. “Stop whinging or I’ll never get these cleaned properly.”  
  
He put on a brave face but flinched as the rubbing alcohol she was spreading over the cuts stung again. “Just when I was starting to like cats, too.”  
  
She looked up, finding this statement almost as unbelievable as his description of aliens with Mohawks. There hadn’t been any such aliens—no aliens of any sort, in fact. What there had been was some university research student one building over working on a high frequency sound generator every evening after classes. And there had been cats who really didn’t want the Doctor to save them from the nonexistent threat.   
  
“Tsssss! Ow, Rose!”   
  
“Sorry. Done with that.” She finished with the alcohol and began wrapping bandages around his forearm. He was a bleeding, hurting captive before her. And this was the perfect opportunity to lecture him about running full throttle into a dangerous situation. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. He felt bad enough, what with the pain in his arm and wasting her time on a completely uninteresting, non-alien development. So she tucked the edge of the bandage under and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “There are plenty of adventures to be had without aliens.”   
  
“Not good ones.”  
  
Laughing, “Doctor, are you  _pouting?_ ”  
  
“Me? Never!” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Well, maybe a little.”   
  
Kissing took care of that, and then they were back, lying on the couch.


End file.
